your next great adventure
by snapslikethis
Summary: Eleven year old Lily is packing for Hogwarts, and it's a dream come true, but it feels more like saying goodbye to her childhood than hello to her next great adventure. She has great parents who help her as they themselves cope with letting their youngest daughter go.


Lily sighed in exasperation as she yanked books, photographs, clothing-junk, really-from her overfilled trunk and chucked them, two at a time, over her shoulder. When her trunk was finally empty, she turned around to face the mess she'd created, knelt down, and once again (for the fourth time, not that she was counting) began to sort through the contents on the floor.

Determined that this would be her _final_ attempt at packing, Lily tried to be more particular about which items made the cut-a task she found exceedingly difficult. Her school supplies were repacked immediately. Past that, however, she had no clear idea (despite her mother's guidance and her friend's advice) as to what she might need in the coming year. Wouldn't it be awful to realize in October that she needed her green dress, or those brown boots? But it needed to be done, and as her patience had long gone, Lily was ruthless in sorting her clothes. In the end she spared only her new school shoes and trainers, uniforms and robes, three pajama pairs, dressing gown and slippers, winter gear, and two or three spare outfits for weekends. The rest, she picked up and tossed into the bottom of her wardrobe.

Nostalgic by nature, Lily took more care with items of sentimental value. Lily thought, four hours earlier, that if she could pack up everything-take everything that meant something to her-it would feel less like goodbye. Now, she had finally, reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that there wasn't room for everything in her new trunk (and, she realized with a pang, her new _life_). Jane, a ginger doll her grandmother made for her had been Lily's sleeping companion every night in her living memory-even for sleepovers. Childish though it may be, Jane _was_ coming to Hogwarts with Lily; she would be packed in the morning. The rest of her animals and dolls, however, were unceremoniously swept under her bed. The woven bracelets she, Bridget and Emily had painstakingly plaited the summer before as they swore undying friendship were the only pieces of her primary school friends she could take with her-so she placed them in her small jade jewelry box and added that to her trunk. The jar of seashells she collected with Petunia when she was seven, although they represented better times with her sister and her favorite trip to the sea, were too large to bring. Lily unscrewed the lid, extracted her favorite shell, and put the jar back in its place on her dresser.

"It's the books, Lil, that are going to do you in." Lily started at the voice, which belonged to her father, who was leaning against the doorway as if he had been watching her for some time.

"Dad," Lily protested, "What what if the library there doesn't have good books? What will I read?" The blunt confession made Mr. Evans chuckle, but Lily was deadly serious and they both knew it. Her mother, a primary teacher, had tried to instill in both her daughters a love of reading, a lesson which only truly blossomed within her youngest. Lily went to the library two blocks down every week- more, if she could manage. She read voraciously, especially in the winter when the park was too cold to visit, and especially after lights out as she insisted that it was the only proper way to fall asleep.

George Evans surveyed his daughter-his youngest, who shared his eyes and stubbornness and deadpan sense of humor and love for sport. She was leaving tomorrow to a place he couldn't go, to a world he wasn't part of, and it struck him that this must be just as difficult for her as it was for him. He was just passing through, down to his den, but he stepped into the doorway and inquired of her, "Is everything else packed? It's just your books left?"

Lily didn't say anything. Her eyes had begun to prick and she did not want to cry. Instead, she nodded and fidgeted with the worn copy of _The Secret Garden_ resting between her fingers. George crossed the room, sat beside her, and picked up a book. "Well, then, I'll just hand you these, we'll go until they don't fit anymore. We'll leave room for Jane to be added in the morning. And if November comes and you really must, absolutely, cannot live without a particular book until Christmas. Send us your owl-Partridge, right? And I will send that book back with to you."

Lily warmed at this, she hadn't even thought about this possibility. Her nose crinkled as she remembered, "But you hate birds, dad."

He shook his head and insisted, "It doesn't matter, love. I'll figure it out, or more likely bribe your sister to do it. Don't you worry about it though; we'll sort it out on this end. Alright?"

"Alright."

He ruffled her hair, she rolled her eyes, and he handed her the first book. They worked in companionable silence, until a particular boxed set caught George's eye. He picked it up and said with a rueful smile, "Tolkien? Lily. I'm proud. I have a set _just like this _in my den."

Lily's cheeks tinged pink as she confessed, rather sheepishly, "Well, Daddy, erm. Thing is, I _might_ have nicked those from your den last Christmas…"

"Clearly," her dad laughed. "No matter though, just ask next time, alright? Keep them-a going to school present. I daresay you'll get more use from them than I will."

"Thanks," replied Lily, beaming, as she placed the books in her trunk. "You know, I love that you underline in your books. Mum flips out, but I do the same as you."

"Exactly." Mr. Evans smiled, "What's the point of reading if you can't go back and reference. Books are meant to be loved, yes?"

His daughter only nodded, and he knew by this that she was again close to tears. Not that he'd mention it-it'd only embarrass her. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Her own arms wrapped around his generous middle. He knew she wouldn't let him hold her like this tomorrow at the platform- not with her friend and her sister watching-and he couldn't fault her for that. He kissed the top of head, and said in a voice rather more tender than what he was used to, "I love you, too, Lil."

"I love you, too, Daddy." And after a moment, "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, love. Sunday football won't be the same without you."

"You'll write me the scores and standings, please?"

"Better than that. Send a Partridge on Sundays-you must write your mother every week, anyway, or she'll worry, and send Tuney a few lines as well-and I'll send the Monday sport section back with her."

Lily genuinely smiled at this. "You're the best, dad, you know that?"

The moment passed, they broke apart, and after that made short work of the rest of the books. After half an hour, they were interrupted by light footsteps on the stairs. "It's ten o'clock, Lily," her mum reminded, coming into her room, "That's an hour past lights out, normally, and you know it."

Margaret paused at the doorway, surveyed the scene before her, and pretended to be gravely offended. She couldn't keep the teasing tone from her voice as she accused in mock offense, "Oh, I see how it is. You don't want your dear old mum's help to pack, but dad's help is welcome?"

"Oh, Meg," her father defended them both. "You fuss too much to help Lily and you know it."

"Damn you, love, but you're right. I _do_ know it." Margaret smiled at her husband and turned to her daughter- her baby, who reminded her so much of her George in temperament but with whom she shared her love for literature and music and being outdoors-who was leaving in thirteen short hours and wouldn't return to her bedroom, her spot at the table, her mother's arms for four long months. Meg tried to keep her voice even as she questioned, "All packed, darling?"

"I think so. That's the last of the books, at least. Dad said he can owl if I need a one."

"Of course, dear. That's partly why we splurged on the owl. You weren't worried about it, were you?"

"No!" Lily answered, a bit too quickly to be believed, but neither of her parents said anything.

Sensing that two of his three girls needed to be alone, he rose from his spot on the floor. "I know you won't at all, but for my sake, pretend to get some sleep tonight. We've a big day tomorrow. I'll bring your trunk down after you're awake, alright?" Lily nodded her acquiescence. He ruffed her hair, gave his wife a peck on the cheek, and closed the door behind him.

Lily, having dressed before bed at eight, grabbed her copy of _The Secret Garden-_a childhood favorite, the first book she read on her own-and, without preamble, curled into bed. Margaret followed her across the room, covering her daughter in the plaid quilt her own mother had made, and took a seat next to her on the mattress.

She was pondering what to say, but before she could utter a word her daughter cut across her with a shaky voice, "Mum, please don't-"

"I _have_ to ask, Lily," her mother insisted. "It's my job as your mum to watch out for you. I know we've talked about it, and you have our-my-full support. Are-are you quite sure you're ready for this? If you want to change your mind, if you need to, if this is all too much-that's okay, love. It is."

Lily tugged at her hair, a tick she regressed to only when exhausted or anxious. Her mother didn't correct her behavior, but waited patiently for an answer. It came out slowly, mixed with salty tears on her cheeks-the ones she'd been trying to avoid all evening. "Mum, I have to go. I _want _to go, I do. I've been so excited for ages and ages. But, mum, this is all _so much harder_ than I thought it would be. I feel like it's just going to be goodbyes, and it is, and it hurts."

Distracted by her own tears, Lily didn't realize her mum had lain down until she felt warm arms wrap around her and a hand stroking her tangled hair. "It's alright, Lily, to be nervous and sad. Of course it is love."

"I'll miss you-you and dad, and Tuney, so much. I don't think I can even place a telephone call."

"I know, darling. We'll miss you too, of course we will."

"What if I forget your voice?"

Her mother laughed at this, "Dramatics, love." She added, a bit teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, "You won't forget my voice. How could you, when I fuss so much?"

Lily cracked a small smile at this, but her tears persisted. Her mother continued, "It's four months-a long time, yes, but only sixteen weeks. That's sixteen episodes of Dr. Who. You'll be so busy learning _magical _things, spells and books and who knows what else. We'll see you for Christmas, you know. You can write every day, and no one would think less of you. You must try write at least once a week, though, for your father's sake. Okay? And, Lily, Eileen told me about flew, or flu-it didn't make much sense, something about a fireplace. The point is-we'll find a way to talk if you really miss us that terribly. Okay?"

"It's called floo, Mum, green ashes or something. Severus explained it all but it was last year."

"That's the other thing, love. You won't be going alone. You already have a friend, which is more than some of the first year students can say."

Lily was grateful for this-Sev, her friend-but it reminded her of something else, something more important. "Tuney doesn't want me to go." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact, a puzzle neither of them knew how to solve.

"I know, love, but here's the thing. You are a witch, and if you don't go, you'll regret it. Your sister doesn't like it, but it's not her choice. You let me take care of her, alright, and just be the best sister you know how to be. As your mother, Lily, let me tell you something: you belong there at that school, yes, but you belong here, too. This isn't a goodbye-never. You're stuck with us as your parents, Tuney as your sister, whether you want us or not. And you need to do this for _you. _Just because you're away at school, it doesn't change our family from four to three. You're part of our family-always."

How her mother could have known Lily's true fear, she'd never know. That was the power of a mum, she supposed, but the _how_ didn't particular matter because those words were a soothing balm; it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her tears finally relented. She sniffed into the tissue her mum had known to bring with. "Thanks, mum. I'll miss you all-but especially you."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll miss you, too. But I'm glad you're going, I am. Think about all the adventures-you have your very own wardrobe door,, fairy dust, rabbit hole. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're really very lucky."

Lily smiled at that. "I know. I always dreamed about this, but I never thought it would happen."

"But it has, because you are so very special. Adventures can seem so intimidating, but they're almost always worth it. It takes great bravery to do what you're doing, you know."

"I don't feel very brave, mum, but please don't tell dad that."

"Our secret," Margaret promised, and nuzzled her daughter's nose with her own.

After a few minutes, she asked her daughter, "Are you the least bit tired, love?"

"No. Mum, I don't think I'll sleep much tonight. I'm feeling too much of everything."

"Lily, I know _exactly_ what you mean." Her mother disentangled from her daughter, rose from the bed, and held out a hand. "Come on then. I'll make you some hot cocoa. I know its August, but this will make up for the cold nights in what I'm sure will be a very drafty castle."

Lily couldn't help but smile at that. She allowed her mother to pull her out of bed but held fast to her hand as she followed out of her bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen.


End file.
